


Demands

by exklusiv



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Abortion Discussion, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forced miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exklusiv/pseuds/exklusiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Qun demands that Hawke duel the Arishok to keep Isabela.<br/>The apostate healer demands that Hawke not keep secrets from the Tevinter elf.<br/>Love demands that Hawke keep sacrificing for those around her.<br/>Eventually, the demands are too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demands

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly unbeta'd, so feel free to point out any egregious mistakes.   
> This fic is a dumptruck of sad emotions you are warned.

Hawke wanted to blame this on Isabela. She had brought the Qunari here, had stolen their tome in the first place, and was the prize that Hawke now stood poised to fight for. Yet, even as Hawke stood in fear, trying not to let it show just how terrified she was that the behemoth that was the Arishok drew his blades against her and prepared himself for a duel, she couldn’t find it in herself to blame Isabela for anything that had happened.

Friendship was often a heavy burden.

Her companions stood off to the side in the Viscount’s throne room, up near the throne itself above the stairs. The terms of the duel had been that it would only be Hawke and the Arishok, and only the things they had on them. No outside help from any Saarebas the Arishok had, no outside help from Anders. If Hawke was to keep Isabela, she had to do it on her own. But that did not stop Anders from shifting from foot to foot, his hands clenching as a cold sweat dripped down his back.

Hawke was the truest friend he’d had since the Warden Commander in Amaranthine. He was not about to see her die at the hands of the Qunari leader. To his side, Fenris stood bare-faced, emotionless as he looked over the two about to duel. Anders was almost about to yell at him for his indifference until he noticed the elf’s Adam’s apple bob up and down in a hard swallow, his lyrium faintly pulsing blue once before quieting. Of course, years of slavery had taught the Tevinter how to hide his emotions; but even his feigned disinterest could not mask the fear in his eyes.

With a steady hand, Hawke drew her staff, taking a stance against the Arishok. The mountain of a Qunari held his blades at his sides and inclined his head at the apostate.

“You should consider your death to be honorable.”

Hawke spun her staff, more a show than any threat. “Shouldn’t I send you to find the honor your Qun demands instead?”

Aveline sighed from the end of the line. “Can never keep her mouth shut, can she?”

Merrill held her clasped hands to her mouth, large eyes even wider with fear as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, but even he had a tight knot of worry between his eyebrows.

The air was tense, and then the Arishok made the first move. With a roar meant to intimidate, he raised his blades and stepped forward. Almost immediately, Hawke reached out and grabbed the air like she was gripping an orb. The Arishok became encased in a field of entropic energy that bound him static, injuring him as he struggled. Hawke’s hand shook with the effort of keeping him contained, and when she released him, it was like his charge had not been paused. Hawke dove out of the way and blindly threw a bolt of spirit energy at the Arishok as he brought his blades down on the stone tile where she had been a moment before, the sound clattering against the walls as the bolt grazed the Arishok’s back. He grunted in annoyance and took off after Hawke, swinging his blades as Hawke evaded, sometimes by inches.

The Arishok swung his sword down; Hawke brought her staff up to block his downward attack. With her arms up, the Arishok swung his ax sideways. Anders closed his eyes as Hawke jumped back, but Merrill’s muffled shriek told him all he needed to know. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Hawke limping away from the Arishok, eyes locked onto his slowly approaching form with a hand on her hip, dripping red seeping out from between her fingers. With a grunt of effort and her leg almost buckling, Hawke drove the end of her staff into the ground, a trail of ice appearing from the end of it, encasing the Arishok’s feet in a frozen lock. As the Qunari struggled to get out of it, Hawke took to her knee, hand returning to her hip, the other gripping her staff for support. A small shimmer of blue appeared on her hip and Hawke looked suddenly less distressed; Anders was overwhelmed with pride that she’d taken his lessons on healing magic to heart.

Hawke grabbed her staff and threw a weak fireball at the Arishok as he finally broke free from the ice, distracting him as she ran out of range. Hawke pulled a small vial of a shimmery blue potion from the pack on her hip, draining the minute amount of lyrium as she ran from the Arishok. Merrill was all but hiding her face in her hands, Isabela visibly shaking from fear as the Arishok gained on Hawke. Aveline was biting her lip hard enough to bruise and Sebastian was rapidly chanting a prayer as Varric looked pale enough to be sick. Still, Fenris stood stone-faced, but Anders could feel how tightly wound he was, like he was about to shoot off at any moment.

It was then that Anders realized Hawke had no idea how close behind her the Arishok was. The Qunari was covered in wounds, lacerations and burns from Hawke’s magic, but he was still fiercely determined. Hawke was on her last potions and her health was failing. Healing had saved most of her wound, but she still bled, and the Arishok had knocked her halfway across the room with his various blows at least three times. Anders didn’t even want to think about what kind of pain she was in.

He wanted to shout, to warn her not to, when she planted her foot and spun on her heel, staff ready to throw a spell. As she faced the Arishok, her mouth set firmly, the Qunari, poised even before she was, thrust his sword forward. There was a squelching slide of tearing flesh and Merrill screamed, turning immediately and hiding her face in Sebastian’s shoulder, the Brother immediately holding her tightly and hiding her from the sight. The Arishok’s blade, squared off and deadly, had pierced Hawke, through and through from one side to the other. Anders felt his stomach roll with a worried kind of sickness as Varric shouted for their friend.

The staff dropped out of Hawke’s hand as her knees buckled and went weak. Isabela gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes watering with guilt as the Arishok pushed his blade in further and hoisted Hawke in the air, presenting her as if she was some hunter’s prize. Justice flashed white in Anders’ mind and it took everything within the mage to keep him pushed back. Blood poured from around the metal of the blade, turning the dark metal red as Hawke struggled, her breath coming in short pants. The faintest blue light sparkled around the sword, but her minute healing magic could do no more than slow the injuries.

Anders couldn’t hold back. He clenched his fists and stared intently at Hawke, his heart pounding as he broke the rules of their duel and began keeping Hawke alive, his healing magic stretching and trying to dig deep into her body to end the worst of the damage. Fenris gripped his wrist suddenly, his clawed gauntlets a rigid vice against the mage’s skin, and Anders was almost angry until he felt a rich, fresh surge of magic enter his body.

Fenris was not trying to stop him. Fenris was augmenting his power by giving his lyrium in aid. Together, they were keeping Hawke alive.

“Surrender honorably,” the Arishok said to Hawke, her blood dripping down his arm. Skin white and eyes dull, Hawke weakly reached a hand out.

“You first,” she choked out, blood staining her teeth. With a quickness Anders didn’t know she could possess in her weakened state, Hawke shoved her hand at the Arishok. The sound like bag of sand being thrown on stone echoed and the Arishok fell to his knees as the push of Hawke’s Force Magic sent her careening off the blade. She crashed onto the ground a few feet from the Arishok, who was shaking his head, trying to regain his senses after being struck so hard by the energy of the spell. Hawke grabbed her staff and placed the end firmly on the ground, blood pooling around her feet as she stood and faced the Arishok, her skin white as snow, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth. The Arishok stood and, vaguely disoriented, took a step towards her. Hawke placed a hand on her stomach and grit her teeth, her breathing bubbling the blood in her mouth.

“The Qun is satisfied,” she gasped, whipping her staff at the Arishok with all the might she had left. The air turned to frost and a shard of ice appeared in front of the Arishok, piercing the leather on his chest and leaving a spike of ice through his heart. The Arishok looked down at the ice in disbelief, his hand touching it in shock. With his last breaths, the Arishok gasped and tried to reach Hawke; the Qunari fell after two steps, the ice shattering as his blood pooled out around him. He stilled after a moment, his body going lax as his life drained.

There was a beat, then Hawke looked up. “I win,” she said, the circles around her eyes almost black, before she lost her grip on her staff and fell backwards, overwhelmed with pain.

Before Anders could react, the nobility that had been corralled in to the room began rushing towards the hero that had defeated the Arishok. Shouts that she be helped rang out amid the demands that the Qunari all be slaughtered, with many asking what was going to happen now as the remaining Qunari left the throne room without another word. Nobles shouted that they be stopped, and Anders tried his hardest to fight through the crowd.

“Out of my way, out of my way!” Anders yelled, elbowing past nobles and clawing his way to Hawke. What felt like a century had passed as Hawke lay bleeding on the floor and the nobles refused to move. Aveline pushed her away ahead of Anders and began clearing a path, Fenris hot on his heels. Finally, with Aveline using her authority as a guard, they managed to break through to Hawke, Aveline nearly slipping in the expansive pool of her blood. Dropping to his knees immediately, Anders immediately began running a vitals check on Hawke, his concentration breaking as the nobles still crowded.

They demanded to know who Anders was, what he was doing, some demanded the use of Templar force on the unknown apostate, and some simply wanted to see what was going on. Fenris tried to usher some back, but was overwhelmed with shouting voices. Hawke’s heart grew weaker as Anders tried to focus, and suddenly Anders snapped, not by a force of Justice, but by his own fear and frustration.

“All of you, get back!” he shouted, throwing his hands out and knocking back the nobles with a powerful telekinetic burst. Aveline and Fenris stumbled, but the nobles knocked into each other like dominoes. “All of you, get away from her, or I swear!”

“You heard him! By order of the Guard-Captain, I want this crowd back! Out, all of you!” Aveline said, standing with her hands out. Fenris took a less subtle approaching, drawing his large great sword and brandishing it, his lyrium flashing menacingly. Without any hesitation, the nobility backed away, looking at Hawke and falling silent as Anders turned back to her and began looking her over, his magic pushing into her to keep her alive as he tore open her tunic to her ribs to better assess the damage. His heart dropped at the sight, but he forced himself to stay strong.

“Hawke? Hawke? Come on, Hawke, can you hear me?” he said, checking her pulse. Faintly, it still marched on, unsteady and weak. Anders almost began crying when Hawke’s eyes fluttered open, her face gaunt as she looked at her friend with dead eyes.

“You cheated,” she said faintly, cracking a smile even as she lay dying.

“Thank the Maker I did. Hold still, now, it will be alright. Don’t you die on me.”

A hand placed itself on the back of Anders’ neck and he felt the surge of magic all over again. Fenris loomed over them both, not really tall or bulky but still terribly imposing. Aveline knelt on the other side of Hawke, looking at Anders as he worked as fast as he could to help their friend.

“Anything I can do, Anders?”

“Break open a health potion and force it into her mouth. It’s not going to help heal her on a massive level but she’s a few minutes from bled dry. The potion will help fix that. Don’t you dare die on me, you stupid Fereldan refugee, don’t you dare.”

Hawke cracked a weak smile as Aveline yanked the cork out of a health potion and forced it into Hawke’s mouth. Hawke swallowed weakly as Anders ran his hands over her bloody torso.

“Thank the Maker he was just to the side. If he’d hit your spine, it would have been hopeless. As it is, I just have to work to save the rest of your insides. Andraste’s tits, he did a number on you. Fenris, how much are you giving me?”

“Not all of it, if that’s what you mean. I don’t want to overwhelm too quickly.”

“Throw me a little more, I’m going to run out here. Thank you,” he said, his bones warming at the fresh surge of lyrium.

“Fenris,” Hawke breathed out, weakly reaching a hand out for the elf. Fenris was immediately on his knees, hand moving to rest on Anders’ back as Fenris held Hawke’s hand, holding it against his cheek.

“I’m here,” he said softly, and Anders was surprised to hear his voice come out like he was struggling to speak around tears. “Hawke, I’m here.”

“Look, Fenris,” Hawke said, the blood on her chin starting to turn dry. She grinned weakly. “I’m a blood mage.”

“Maker’s Breath, now’s not the time, Hawke,” Aveline said, pulling open another health potion. “Drink.”

Hawke forced down another potion, the bitter liquid burning her throat. Anders felt another surge of magic from Fenris and worked as fast as he could to stitch his friend back together. With every passing moment, her heartbeat grew stronger and stronger, and her breathing did not seem so labored. Every touch of his magic told him what parts of her were injured, what was in most dire need of healing, and he worked as hard as he could to heal her.

Hawke grit her teeth. “Healing was never this unpleasant before.”

“Healing was never this intensive before. But it’s almost laughable that you think I’m the one hurting you,” Anders said, one hand working on a stubborn part of her stomach as the other moved around to feel for any other urgent spots. His hand moved down to check on the gash on her hip, but something just under her navel had him concerned. He looked down at his hand, then back at Hawke.

“You… Hawke, you—”

“Anders, shouldn’t you be concentrat—oh, Maker, ow, ow! Oh, Andraste’s tits, that hurts,” Hawke moaned, reaching out for Aveline’s hand. The guard-captain gave it and immediately winced at how tightly Hawke began squeezing it.

“Should healing be this painful?” Fenris asked, looking at the mage.

“That’s the thing about healing: it doesn’t hurt. It’s likely her adrenaline is waning and the volume of her injuries is catching up with her. Stop wriggling, woman, you’ll make it worse! I know it hurts, but please, stay still, and it will be over faster.” Anders was not nearly done discussing what his magic had come across, but he was willing to put it aside for just a moment, if only to focus on healing Hawke faster.

Fenris’ surges of lyrium began to grow weaker and weaker; Anders could feel the power in his markings dulling as he depleted himself like the top of an hourglass running out of sand. In time, it would build back up, but it was slowly becoming spent. Anders worked as hard as he could, the sticky blood around them coagulating quickly, and the crowd still watching them intently. Fenris said a string of words in Tevene that Anders couldn’t understand. The strain of healing was getting to Anders minute by minute, his head pounding from the effort, and when the last of Hawke’s internal injuries were fixed, he slumped down and stopped altogether, his arms weak and his eyes heavy with fatigue.

“I… am exhausted,” he said weakly, his arms shaking. “But she’ll live. We need to… get her home.”

“She lives just to the side of the courtyard, we can finish it off there,” Fenris said, looking at Anders. “Is she alright enough for me to carry her?”

“By all means,” Anders said, slowly getting to his feet, unsteady as a newborn deer. Aveline helped him to his feet as Fenris carefully picked Hawke up and cradled her to his chest, standing without a hint of trouble. Aveline waved to their companions, who ran down the stairs to accompany them. Merrill’s face was red and splotchy, like she’d been sobbing, and Isabela looked like she was going to be sick. As they walked by, Varric paused to pick up her staff.

At the door, Knight-Commander Meredith stopped them. “Hold, you.”

Fenris gave her a nasty glare, as if daring her to take Hawke from his arms. Aveline looked at Meredith. “Something we can do for you, Knight-Commander?”

“I am just making sure that our city’s new Champion is going to be alright. I understand she was gravely injured and wanted to make sure her title would not be posthumous.”

Anders nodded weakly. “She will live. But she needs rest.”

Meredith looked Anders up and down, as if sizing him up, deciding how many Templars would be needed to drag him to the Gallows, then stepped aside. “I wish her a quick recovery. When she is better, tell her to come to the Gallows and speak to me. I wish to bestow the honor upon her myself.”

“We will, Knight-Commander,” Aveline said respectfully.

Fenris led the helm of their companions out of the Keep, he, Anders, and Aveline covered in Hawke’s blood as they walked down the stairs, Anders dragging his feet and leaning heavily on Aveline. Sebastian rushed forward and supported the other side of Anders, helping Aveline with the weight. Anders more or less let them carry him down the stairs.

Entering Hawke’s estate was like entering a madhouse. The color drained from Orana’s face as Bodahn began fussing and panicking. Sebastian shouted orders with the authority of a prince, demanding bathwater and clean clothes for Hawke. Bodahn and Orana skittered away quickly as Sandal looked on, looking concerned but not quite sure what was happening. Fenris held Hawke in his arms and yet he couldn’t keep track of the whirlwind of people around him. Hawke was out of his arms and into a copper tub and Orana was handing him a wet cloth to clean himself off, then suddenly he was being handed clean clothes to replace the bloody ones. Everything seemed to happen in seconds, and it wasn’t until Fenris was being forced into a chair by Aveline that he realized that his tension and worry had drained him. He sank deeply in the chair, the cotton of the shirt Orana had put him in sagging around his shoulders. In the chair next to him, Anders was stretched out in a similar outfit, his shirt blue instead of white. The mage was asleep, dark circles under his eyes. The healing must have taken a lot out of him.

In the other room, Merrill was hurriedly asking if Hawke was going to be okay as Sebastian assured her she would be. Their voices melded together as Fenris let his eyes slide shut, succumbing to sleep.

* * *

Hawke woke in her bed, feeling like she had been ripped apart and stitched back together with a branch. She shifted and felt thick bandages around her middle, and a dull, hot pain on her belly. She then realized that she more or less _had_ been ripped apart and stitched back together, though with Anders’ magic and not a branch. With a groan, she tried to sit up in bed, her entire body sore.

“Oh, thank the Maker,” a voice said next to her fireplace. Hawke looked over and was delighted to see Anders watching her. He looked exhausted but relieved. “You’re awake. I was beginning to worry.”

“I guess I need to thank you, Anders. For keeping me alive.”

“You definitely should. It wasn’t easy. On any of us. I didn’t know Fenris had the ability to give his lyrium to anyone, but he can, and apparently, it exhausts him as much as healing exhausts me.”

“He’s good in a pinch, but it does require a lot of effort to give magic to someone else on his part.”

Anders crossed his arms. “You know, Hawke, I kept you alive. I had to practically reach inside you to piece you back together. And there’s something we need to talk about.”

Hawke cleared her throat and looked away. “Oh, can’t we talk later, when I don’t feel like I’ve been tossed off the top of the Chantry?”

“No, we need to talk now,” Anders said, putting his hands on his hips. “How could you keep something like this a secret?”

“Can we at least both put ourselves on the same page? I’d really like to not argue about something if we’re not agreeing on what we’re arguing on.”

Anders pointed at Hawke, quickly looked at the door to make sure it was closed, then advanced on his friend. “You were pregnant. Bloody pregnant, Hawke.”

“Oh, good! We were on the same page. Glad that’s all sorted.”

“Do not joke about this, Gry Hawke. I had… that was a startling way to find out. Why were you keeping this a secret?”

“Please don’t get pious on me, Anders, I’m too sore for it.” Hawke fell back against her pillows. “I don’t know. I meant to tell, and then everything started happening at once, with my mother and the Qunari, and I just… never found the time. It was really getting along there, huh? Probably almost four months, at this point.”

Anders sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her. Still, Hawke winced as Anders looked at her. “Hawke, did you not say anything because… you’re not really involved anymore?”

There was a moment of quiet. “Not intentionally. I would have told him eventually.”

“Like when you could no longer put on a belt?”

Hawke sighed. “I felt… I don’t know. I was worried he’d feel trapped. I know that sounds stupid. But I just wanted to… pretend it never happened. Could you… save it?”

Anders shook his head. “That heartbeat might as well have not existed when I got to it. It found it in its last moments. I suppose you don’t have to worry about it anymore, anyway.”

“It’s better this way.”

Anders looked at Hawke with furrowed eyebrows. “You wanted it gone, didn’t you? Throwing yourself headfirst into every fight, refusing my healing, agreeing to a duel with the bloody Arishok… you wanted something to end this pregnancy.”

“It’s shameful, isn’t it? I was too weak to confront this so I was just hoping I’d get hit hard enough.”

“Maker’s breath, Hawke, do you even realize how dangerous that was? Why couldn’t you have just come to me with this? I don’t just heal, you know, I’ve performed more abortions than I’d care to think about. I’ve sadly gotten good at it.”

Hawke looked at Anders with quizzical eyes. “You have?”

“The refugees in Darktown can barely keep themselves alive, much less a newborn child. The women come to me, and ask for help. I give it. And I would have given it to you, too, Hawke.” Anders rubbed his forehead, looking suddenly older than his years. “This is a mess.”

“Is there something I can ask you, Anders?”

“Oh, now you want to start asking things of me!” Anders sighed and shook his head. “By Andraste, that isn’t fair of me. I shouldn’t be so upset over this. Ask anything you’d like.”

Hawke twiddled her thumbs. “Could I have children one day, if I wanted? Or… am I…”

Anders could have died laughing, if he thought Hawke wouldn’t hit him for the laughter. “You’re going to kill me one day, I just know it. I spent time and energy making sure you didn’t die and here you are, asking if you could have kids one day. Andraste’s tits, Hawke.”

“Answer the question.”

“I’m hurt that you don’t have faith in my abilities. The child is dead, but your womb is no worse for wear. If you so wanted, you could have a child. I’m hoping that your choice in the future child’s father will be better than this lost child’s father.”

Hawke crossed her arms. “Didn’t you just tell me that Fenris was an accomplice in my still being alive?”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like him, you know.” Anders raised his eyebrow and looked at Hawke. “You need to tell him.”

“Can I talk to someone else who doesn’t want to make me do unpleasant things?”

Anders smiled. “I’m afraid not. Mage’s orders. But seriously, Hawke, you should tell him what happened. Just… because he has the right to know. If the roles were reversed, wouldn’t you have wanted to know?”

“I guess I would.”

“Then it’s settled. Let’s check your bandages, I’ll have Orana bring you some food, and then Bodahn can go get the elf.”

“Don’t waste any time, do you?”

Anders hopped off the bed and pulled back her bedclothes. “My patience is being used for other things. Let’s have a look at that gash.”

* * *

Bodahn had been insistent, but Fenris hadn’t really needed the extra prodding. His attention was demanded at the Hawke estate and he was not one to refuse when she called. Bodahn had told him she was bedridden, but it didn’t surprise him when he found her draped in a silk robe, staring out the window. A quick clearing of his throat announced him to her, and she slowly turned to look at him. The robe on her shoulders was untied, but she was not exposed. Her legs were covered with simple cotton trousers, and Anders had wrapped her bandages under her breast band.

A faint line of dark red stained the front of the bandages, apparently from where the wound had decided to start bleeding again.

“I was told it was urgent. Should you be out of bed?”

“Anders told me I could stand, if I wished. I’m not running any time soon, but I don’t think I’m going to need to. I’m glad you came.”

Fenris felt awkward, standing in her room, like an unwelcome guest. After a moment, Hawke sighed and gestured to her bed.

“We should talk about something. Anders will have my skin if we don’t.”

Fenris nodded and sat down on the edge of her bed, his stomach jolting as he realized the last time he did this, he had tried comforting her after her mother had died. Gingerly, Hawke joined him, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the mattress, her robe spread out behind her.

“I… have not been as honest with you as I should have been,” Hawke began, her voice faltering.

“I can’t imagine what you could be lying about.”

“Lying isn’t really what I’ve been doing. I have just… not been telling you things. Things you really ought to know.”

Fenris had never been one for the kind of dry wit Hawke favored, but he tried to use it nonetheless. “Have you been conspiring with Danarius?”

Hawke snorted. “Maker, no. It’d be hard to conspire with me when the only thing he’d get to say is ‘You must be Hawke’ before I would send a bolt of lightning up his ass.”

“You. You and Aveline. You both know exactly what to say to make me smile. It’s a Fereldan woman thing, I’m almost sure of it.”

Hawke hung her head. “I’m about to make you eat those words. Fenris, I… we… I don’t regret our night together.”

Fenris frowned, feeling guilty. “I don’t know if this is something—”

“I know, we don’t talk about it, and that’s partly why I didn’t bring this up, but I did mean it literally that Anders would kill me if I didn’t say anything to you about this. He’s been threatening me all day. Apparently, the bastard’s taking his role as my best friend seriously.”

“How dare he.”

“Flames, Fenris, stop making me laugh, I’ll lose all my nerve.” Hawke ran her hands through her hair. Fenris noticed how her knuckles were scabbed and bruised. “Fenris, when we… after… maybe I should have let Anders do this. He would have just come right out and said it.”

Hawke took in a deep breath, shrugged, and looked helplessly at Fenris. “We… were not very careful during our night together. I certainly know and have practiced ways to prevent it but I didn’t that night. Thank the Maker Anders has offered to restock what I use.”

“You just said a lot of words that meant absolutely nothing.”

“I can’t figure out a way to phrase this that doesn’t sound accusatory, or bitter. I am neither, but words are failing me.”

“Perhaps just say it. I’ll likely know the intent, anyway.”

“Again, I’ll make you eat those words. Alright, here it goes: Fenris, you had… gotten me pregnant. After our night. There, I said it. And I think I’m going to be sick.”

The gears in Fenris’ head clicked to a halt as the words entered his mind, demanding to be processed. He worked the phrase out in his head until finally, all he could spit out was, “Pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“You.”

“Yes.”

“With my child?”

“Andraste’s ass, Fenris, yes! I was pregnant with your child!”

“And you didn’t—hold.” Fenris held a hand up, the hand connected to the wrist Hawke’s red scarf was still wrapped around. “Was?”

“That’s the second part,” Hawke said quietly. “The encounter with the Arishok rendered me… unpregnant.”

“You’re having me on,” Fenris finally said, shaking his head. “That mage put you up to this. Some payment for saving you, you have to torment me. When I see him next…”

Hawke played with the edge of her robe. “I don’t even know if I have the ability to lie about something like this, Fenris. But whatever was there, it’s not anymore. Anders told me there was nothing he could do. And it wasn’t like it was my life or the child’s life. It was too much. I didn’t want to keep this from you, Fenris, I really didn’t.”

“But you did.”

The ice in Fenris’ voice chilled Hawke’s bones and left a patch of frostbite in her heart. “Please try and see this from my perspective, Fenris. Can you not imagine how hard this was for me? I didn’t tell anybody about this. It’s not like we were all gossiping behind your back. I had a hard time even coming to terms with it myself.”

“Why didn’t you think you could have trusted me with this? I certainly wouldn’t have let you fight that wretched Qunari if I knew!”

“How could I have known how you would react, Fenris?” Hawke shouted. “I gave you my heart and you gave it the Fenris special. What would you have done if I’d told you that you’d given yourself a leash you didn’t want to have?”

“What kind of accusation is that?” Fenris spat, glaring at Hawke. “You have so little faith in me that you think I would just leave—”

“You did leave, Fenris!” Hawke said, grimacing and putting a hand on her bandages, the shouting pulling uncomfortably at her wounds. “Bloody wretched flames, Fenris, you did leave. I opened up to you, invited you into my bed, let myself be vulnerable with you the likes of which I haven’t been vulnerable in a long time. And don’t give me that look, like you’ve seen me trot into the Rose for that. Sex is not the same as intimacy. Fenris, I lo— I didn’t put up any walls around you. I let you in. And you just left. How else was I supposed to react to this? I found out I was pregnant and I was so terrified that you would just… leave Kirkwall. Because it’s what you do. You leave.”

Fenris watched as Hawke worked herself into a frenzy, guilt piling up in his belly. Hawke’s eyes turned glassy and her wound looked like it was causing her distress, but she kept going, chastising him, letting everything she’d held in out in one fell swoop.

“I’ve put on a brave face for you, Fenris. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done. And I know that you were overwhelmed with the possibility of remembering, and I get that. Finding out about that part of your life must be terrifying. But by the Maker, Fenris, can’t you imagine what this has been like for me? Why I would rather just force myself to do something reckless that would end the pregnancy, rather than deal with going to you with the news?”

As Hawke shouted and berated, Fenris began taking off his armor. The little clasps that held on his gauntlets were deftly undone and they were set aside. The bands that held his breastplate tight were loosened and he wriggled out of it, tossing it on the floor. He took away all of his sharp, spiky parts and left himself open to Hawke, partly because he had an inkling of what was coming next, and partly because he was afraid she’d hurt herself further if she tried to hit him.

With silent tears coming out of her eyes, Hawke hung her head. “Maker, I wanted that child. Wanted it so much. And now it’s gone.”

And there it was. Fenris scooted until he was behind Hawke, then pulled her gently against his chest, holding her tightly as she cried openly, her sobs shaking her body as Fenris let her mourn and release the emotions she’d been holding in. She hadn’t cried when Leandra had been murdered; he remembered that. He’d sat up with her all night and held her just the way he was holding her now, and she hadn’t let a single tear fall. But now, with everything finally overwhelming her, she couldn’t hold back. These were not just tears for an unborn child now lost. They were tears for everything since Lothering.

“I am not so good with words,” he said, resting his cheek against her hair. “I never know what to say in situations like this. Everything I know points to standing silent and affirming. But doing that would end badly for us here. So forgive me if I say something wrong.”

Hawke placed her hands low on her belly, where a pregnancy would show. Fenris sighed. “I… don’t know how to be around you Hawke. I never have. I’ve never known an intimacy quite like the one you’ve shown me. You pour so much into me and expect so little back, and I… am unused to being around someone who doesn’t want me for some personal reason. Part of the reason I’m so vocal about things is because I have the liberty to be, where I had none before. You scare me, Hawke. In ways I cannot even imagine. You’re reckless, passionate, and you have no problem engaging with dangerous, foul, unholy beasts.”

“That’s no way to talk about Anders.”

Fenris snorted. “Your confidence in him is ever misplaced. But, I digress. I don’t know how to be around you, Hawke, because I don’t trust myself. And I’m selfish. I never thought about how you might have felt after our night. I had never thought what my leaving might have put you through. I was too utterly concerned with myself.”

“Fair’s fair, I guess. I certainly didn’t have flashbacks to a pre-lyrium self.”

With a gentle hand, Fenris reached up and wiped the tears away from Hawke’s cheeks. “It still isn’t excusable. I can’t go back and change it now. But I… promise to be more receptive when you have things to tell me.”

Hawke nodded and rested her weight against Fenris’ chest, relaxing and trying to keep the tears at bay. After a few minutes of silence, Fenris placed his hand on her waist. “I… think I would have been alright with it.”

“Alright with what?”

“The child. I would have been completely fine with you having it. Not that the sentiment means much now, but I want that to put your mind at ease. I would have supported you both.”

“Would you have come back to me?”

Fenris sighed. “I want to say yes. But I don’t know. I still don’t know. Venhedis, I don’t know anything.”

Hawke chuckled and shook her head. “That’s a shame. Maker, everything is a mess. Where do I even start?”

“You start by doing everything Anders tells you to so you can recover. The Champion needs to be in top condition.”

“Champion?” Hawke looked over her shoulder. “Who’s Champion? Champion of what?”

Fenris smiled. “Oh, I ruined the surprise. The Knight-Commander will have my head. You’ve been named Champion of Kirkwall.”

Hawke frowned. “Well, that’s shit. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”

“Don’t go around dueling Arishoks and this sort of thing won’t happen.”

“But the temptation,” Hawke said, holding her hands out like she was trying to grab an object. “It’s right there.”

Fenris shook his head and held Hawke close. Hawke took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out in a long sigh. “Anders told me that I’m still capable of having children. Would… would you ever consider… one day? With planning, this time?”

With a hum, Fenris considered the thought. Having a planned child with Hawke? He’d never even entertained such an idea. Despite himself, he smiled. “In the immediate future, no. You’re barely capable of keeping yourself alive.”

“Stabbed by one Arishok and you never hear the end of it.”

“But,” Fenris said pointedly. “Maybe… when things are not a mess? I’d not consider the idea terrible.”

Hawke nodded and closed her eyes. “That’s good enough.”

“For now.”

“Fenris, with the way things are going,” Hawke said, looking up at the elf. “I will take whatever I can get.”

**Author's Note:**

> I intend for this to be in the same universe as Winter Weather but I was done with that fic before this one was written, so I don't mention any of these happenings at all in it. However, it's still supposed to be read like it's all the same people and all the same characterizations.  
> Let me know what you think!


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